Seireitei Monogatari

a/n: Huzzah! Another request done. Bit by bit, I’m managing to pin these down.

Thanks to everyone who’s been supporting me! Much love to Yakumo, Kuromei, Anon, uchiha mikomi, Amy (Welcome new reader! I’m glad to see you enjoyed them!) and Mulle (Sorry, but I still haven’t managed to find time to open my requests again. But keep those thoughts in mind!)

Enjoy!

Title: TMI
Characters: Hanatarou/Renji (vaguely), random guy
Rating: T
Warning: lusty thoughts, fangirlyness, language, spoilers?
Words: 852
Description: Hanatarou feels that he knows far more about Abarai Renji than any one man has a right to know.

Dedication: To Infernum, who wanted a Renji/Hanatarou. This is what emerged.


Thanks to Rikichi, Hanatarou feels he knows everything there is to know about Abarai Renji. His birthday, his blood type, his tattoos and what they mean. His best friends, his worst enemies, his aspirations. The reason for his obsession with sunglasses. The small birthmark on his left hip.

In fact, Hanatarou feels that he knows far more about Abarai Renji than any one man has a right to know. Especially one man who doesn't have quite the same hero-worshipping point of view that Rikichi does. He knows so much about Abarai Renji that at this point, Hanatarou is pretty damn certain that he knows the lieutenant, despite the fact that they've only met like twice. And that's usually when Abarai-fukutaichou is bleeding and Hanatarou is patching him up.

Following this is a noise of gratitude. A pat on the shoulder. A fanged smile before Abarai-fukutaichou hauls himself to his feet and walks jauntily away.

Two encounters. Perhaps more. And Hanatarou can only count the number of times he's had Abarai-fukutaichou on his back. For a purely medical purpose of course, nothing perverted implied. And only those because he has an extra-awareness of the man thanks to his directory of information in the back of his mind.

And thanks to this, he also knows that Abarai Renji has an interesting array of scars on his body. Some are from battle – Hanatarou can probably name those just by looking at them. Some are from a life on the streets. Random stab wounds that were healed by stubborn will rather than an ability to see a healer and the like. Some are from... well, stupidity. Like the small scar on his forehead that is usually hidden by bandanna or sunglasses. One from where he'd gotten drunk, fell in a ditch, and Kira-fukutaichou punished Abarai-san by not using his fourth-division abilities to heal him.

All in all, thanks to Rikichi, Hanatarou has developed a very unhealthy curiosity – perhaps obsession even – with one Abarai Renji. And it's driving him just a little batty. And this so-called unhealthy curiosity is what has him here today, lingering in the sixth division hallway and only pretending to check up on one of their more recently injured members. But in reality, he is craning his neck to peer out the window and watch as Abarai-fukutaichou shows off. He calls it training.

Hanatarou watches as Abarai-fukutaichou takes on four of his division members at once. His zanpakutou – Zabimaru, his Abarai-Directory helpfully supplies – flashes in the sunlight. Muscles ripple. Tattoos are coated in sweat. Red hair the color of the dying sunset is tugged by a light breeze.

“Ow!”

Hanatarou winces and apologizes. “Sorry,” he says. To his credit, not stammering.

The sixth-division member whose name Hanatarou has completely forgotten in the wake of Abarai Renji just glares at him. And Hanatarou returns to prodding at his cuts and bruises, inwardly commenting to himself that the nameless man will be fine. But if he announces that, he can't stand here and watch Abarai-fukutaichou anymore. At least, not without good reason.

“I think this is going to need stitches,” Hanatarou says instead. His eyes are locked on the window where Zabimaru whips through the air, undulating mightily.

“It already has stitches,” the Shinigami bit out with a twitch.

“Ah, so it does. More then.”

Hanatarou falls silent again.

Outside, Abarai-fukutaichou laughs loudly. He beckons his opponents on and lazily swats away a kidoh that was tossed at him in a vain attempt at making an attack. He snaps his sunglasses down over his nose, fighting off the glare of the sun. But that only makes the tattoos on his forehead stand out more starkly, and if Hanatarou looks closely – very, very closely – he might even be able to see the aforementioned scar.

Hanatarou's eyes track a bead of sweat as it works its way down the side of Abarai-san's neck and into the collar of his shihakushou. And as the vice-captain turns to counter an attack, his shitagi gapes and gives an impressive glimpse of a well-muscled chest and more dark tattoos. Hanatarou drools just a little.

“I think I'm bleeding again,” his patient inserts with a moan.

Forcing himself to pay attention, Hanatarou diverts his eyes to the man’s wound. He sighs internally. It’s only a flesh wound. No doubt Abarai-san wouldn't have complained about it. He would probably be annoyed that it didn't even give him a manly battle scar.

Hanatarou frowns as he applies a little reiatsu, sealing up the torn skin. His eyes want to wander back toward the window, but he stubbornly forces them to his healerly duties.

He can't stop his ears, however. He can hear Abarai-fukutaichou's shouts – Hoeru, Zabimaru! – and the battle cries of his subordinates. He can feel the vice-captain’s reiatsu tearing through the air with the same aggressive nature as his personality. It's like Abarai-fukutaichou surrounds him, all but wrapped around him.

He shivers. His patient moans in pain. Abarai Renji laughs with triumph outside the window. Hanatarou feels a tightening in his hakama.

This is all Rikichi's damn fault.

*****

a/n: Even more requests to come! I hope that you can continue to enjoy and I look forward to your comments!